


Mutual Misery III

by SidneyJane



Series: Mutual Misery [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Flying, Friendship, Gen, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts, M/M, Nightmares, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Harry Potter, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-16 17:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16499444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidneyJane/pseuds/SidneyJane
Summary: Draco is trying to be a good friend, and finds himself being there for Harry in a time of need.





	Mutual Misery III

**Author's Note:**

> Part three of Mutual Misery, check out part one and two! 
> 
> Feel free to leave a Kudos or Comment - I'd love to know what you think!

Draco laid awake in bed, as he usually did, thinking about his conversation with Potter a few days ago. He had intended to get around to being on speaking terms with Potter, to make life easier working at Hogwarts, but he had not anticipated just how much of a similar life they had come to have. Draco’s parents had been imprisoned in Azkaban, leaving the Manor cold and empty. Draco had cut ties with any of his Slytherin classmates in an effort to put the past behind him and so he had found himself quite isolated - though not as self-ostracised as Potter had found himself. He had enjoyed Potters company, it had been easy, stress free and natural to just talk now that he did not have the threats of Voldemort or his Father hanging over him. He could do as he pleased, and more often than not now, he wanted to be a better person.

He fingered the expensive wool blanket that covered him and looked toward the window, past his plush curtains and rare, antique furniture. The sky was a cold shade of blue and threatened rain - those were Draco's favourite kind of days. He got out of bed, pulling on his soft leather slippers, and walked over to the small burner he had in his room to warm his hands.

With a wave of his wand he selected his clothes for the day. He decided on yet another bespoke  tailored suit: a rich, black wool, three piece suit, with a special pocket made for his wand. He decided on his Slytherin green cloak, which was lined with black fur. Since his own business had done so well, Draco enjoyed the finer things in life - he had after all worked hard for it. After getting dressed, he stroked the fur of his cloak appreciating its quality, and set about walking to the great hall for breakfast.

The corridors were quiet - it was still relatively early on Saturday morning and students were entitled to a small lie in on weekends. Draco had this corridor to himself, and took pleasure in being able to walk tall, open, and confident while no one was here to judge him. It was a most pleasant walk to the hall, and one of those small things in life that Draco had come to appreciate. He thought to himself about Potter, and found himself growing concerned - he remembered overhearing from Gryffindors in their school days just how intense Potters nightmares were, and felt himself growing sympathetic towards him. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps having a friend in Potter would help them both get their lives on track.

The great hall was mostly empty when Draco got to it, he saw the Headmistress sitting at the front, her cat like features smiling down on the few students that sat around the hall. He wondered if she held a grudge against him for his actions all those years ago? He took a few tentative steps into the hall, ready to walk to the high table. This always put him on edge, he could not help but think that people were watching him - judging him - as he made his way through.  

Potter wasn’t here. Draco found himself looking for him, perhaps as a reassurance, or just someone who understood his daily strife. Neville saw Draco, and greeted him with a warm smile. Draco walked up to the table, and took a seat next to Neville. His food appeared on a plate in front of him, and he gladly tucked in. His own house elf had joined him this year, and it made him happy to know that she was here with him.

“So,” Neville began cautiously, “I know we weren’t usually on the same side and things,” Draco looked at Neville curiously, wondering what he was about to say, “but there really is no hard feelings. You know that we - Hanah and I - really have put everything behind us?” Nevilles voice was soft, and so non-confrontational, as always.

Draco smiled, “Have you been talking to Potter?” he asked quietly.

Neville looked sheepishly at Draco as he re-filled his empty tea cup, “Actually, Harry did speak to me. I’m positive that it was out of kindness though, he only wanted to help.”

Draco smiled again, how typical of Potter to try and make other people feel better when he was suffering the most, “Thank you, Neville,” Draco was genuinely glad to have someone like Neville on his side, he knew that he would stick up for him if there was any hassle, “I appreciate your thinking of me, I might come around for a butterbeer or two.”

Neville smiled to himself and carried on eating. Draco sat and thought to himself about Potter. So, it would appear that Potter was looking out for him. The least he could do in return was look out for Potter.

“Neville,” Draco caught his attention by tapping his shoulder, as he was talking away to the History of Magic teacher, someone that Draco was unfamiliar with. Neville turned to look at him, “Would you just try and get Potter to stop hiding away slightly?”

Neville sighed, “I’ve tried. He won’t listen to any of us - Ron, Hermione, and all the Weasleys have tried to encourage him to stop feeling like he has to hide, but he’s not ready yet, I guess.”

If he wasn’t listening to the Weasley family and his friends, what chance would Draco have? “Can you just tell him that he’s welcome in the Three Broomsticks, please? It’s not good for him to hide away.”

Neville smirked at Draco, “Are you friends now? What’s happening there?”

Draco sucked in a breath, unsure of the answer to the question himself, “I think we’re friends? We had tea the other day and a rather deep conversation but I’ve not seen him since.”

The hall was slowly filling with students, hungry for breakfast. The noise level rose and Neville beamed down on his students, some waving at him and grinning widely back at him. Draco hoped that one day he would have the admiration of his students, but doubted it since his past followed him around like a shadow on a mid-July day.

Neville looked at Draco and smiled, but smiled with a sadness, “Harry has been eating more and more in his office the past few years. The students - especially the first years - tend to gawp at him a bit. I think it puts him off. Maybe it would help if you asked to join him in his office some time? I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

Draco looked out across the long tables that spanned the length of the hall, and could understand why it would be off putting for Harry - even he found it unnerving sometimes. It could often be like you were on stage. Draco nodded at Neville and let his thoughts wonder as he ate.

***

Since Draco hadn’t really had a chance to walk around the grounds since his return to Hogwarts, he took the chance to do that today. He wrapped his old Slytherin scarf around his neck, pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and set out to walk to the lake. The stillness of the water and the deep green hue always brought a wave of comfort over him, perhaps it reminded him of the Slytherin common room, or maybe he just liked the water.

The grounds were slowly starting to look more and more autumnal. Trees had started to turn golden, leaves were beginning to flit to the floor, and the air was turning colder. The warm colours stood out against the cold blue sky as Draco looked up to observe a bird, darting to and fro above him. He took a deep breath, and appreciated his momentary freedom. He turned to look behind him and marvelled at the sight of the castle, standing steadfast and stubborn on the horizon and felt suddenly emotional. How on earth did Potter have the courage to save all of this when he was just 17? Draco deeply admired Potters strength the more he thought about the severity and the complexity of the challenge that Harry had faced. He wondered what he would have done if he had been issued such a monumental task at such a young age - he was so fragile back then, so immature and very impressionable. But he also lacked courage, something that had probably saved him after Voldemort died. Had he had more courage he may have gone ahead with actually killing someone, something that made Draco shudder under his heavy cloak. He looked back at the floor, trying to clear those thoughts from his mind.

A cry of celebration rang out from Draco's right, surprising him, and he turned to look: he didn’t realise that there was quidditch practice today. He recognised the flyer straight away, and took a moment to observe their smooth dives and elegant turns. It was always something truly marvellous to behold, a good broomsman. Without warning, the person flew toward Draco, flying close overhead. Draco watched as the person flew low over the lake, almost skimming the water. His breath left him as he watched the dexterity of the person flying, it left him in thick mists fogging up the cold air in front of him.

Potter landed next to Draco, his face flushed with exhilaration and wind burn, “How are you today, Malfoy?” he asked, slightly breathless from his flight.

“I’m alright, it’s good to see you out and about. I was worried because I’ve not seen you in a few days.” Draco responded, not wanting to seem like he had been thinking about Potter too much.

“I appreciate your concern, I’ve just been catching up on work and things, really, I’m alright.” Potter smiled, and took off on his broom.

Draco sighed, and turned back to the castle, thinking about his new found friendship with Potter, and whether or not he really was okay. He made a mental note to try harder with Potter, to really make sure that he could help him turn back into the sarcastic git that he remembered from school.

***

Draco sat in front of the burner in his room, wearing his thick flannel pyjamas, reading a complicated book on making one's own potions. It was late, almost too late to still be awake considering that it was mid week and had to teach in the following morning. His room was lit with what felt like hundreds of tiny candles charmed to float around, giving the room a warm and cozy feel. The dark green of his expensive blanket, and velvet curtains seemed to grow in intensity with the light. There was a bookcase next to his bed, mostly filled with potion books and vials of ingredients. It cast a menacing shadow over the corner of his room. A bottle of honey mead glistened on a shelf near his burner and he eyed it temptingly; it would make a wonderful nightcap. Without warning, his house elf appeared, out of the blue, in front of him.

“Mr Malfoy, sir,” she gasped, clearly breathless, and wide-eyed, “It’s Mr Potter.”

Draco had asked his elf to keep an eye on Potter because he was worried about him. Without hesitation, and without knowing what was happening, he found a Bezoar from his potions kit, not knowing what had occurred but thinking that a possible antidote could come in handy. Draco quickly grabbed his thick green cloak and followed the small elf, wishing that it was possible to apparate inside the school. He had to stop to tell a few students to go back to bed, and he grew more and more concerned as he approached the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

The elf stopped outside the classroom door, and disapparated. Draco could hear Potter screaming from here. No wonder there had been students out of bed, he thought to himself, as he cast a charm around the room keeping in the sound so the students could sleep, and to save Harry further embarrassment. He walked quickly up to Potters room, and cast a further charm to keep the noise in. He did not want Potter to feel ashamed in the morning, and if he could help with that, he would.

Potter had calmed somewhat upon Dracos entering the room. His screaming had stopped, but he sobbed. Draco suspected that he was waking up. He quietly set the kettle above the fire and summoned the tea set to him, ready to be filled.

“Harry?” He said quietly, and knelt at the side of his bed, not wanting to startle Potter, but needing to wake him up, “Harry, come on, it’s alright.” He put his hand on Potters shoulder, and his eyes burst open. Full of tears and fear, he stared at Draco, his green eyes wide with shock at seeing him in his room. He took a moment to calm his breathing and then slumped back onto his sweat soaked pillow with a sigh. His breathing steadied, and Draco kept his distance for a bit. Harry eventually wiped his face with his sleeve and sat up in his bed.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice sore from the screaming, “How did you find me?” His green eyes were weary and wild, and his face was drawn, exhausted.

“Esmerelda,” Draco said quietly, “My house elf.”

Harry swung his legs from his bed and sat on the edge, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He sobbed quietly as Draco pondered, asked himself what to do - comforting people wasn't his strong suit. 

Draco sat next to him and spoke softly, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” Potter looked at him, his eyes still full of tears, “we’re all here for you. Neville, Hermione and Ron. I am too, I know we’ve not seen eye to eye in the past, but I’m here for you and I’m trying to be a good person.”

The kettle whistled, and Draco poured the tea with a wave of his wand. Harry pulled a cup towards him and cradled it in his hands, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder, grateful for the friend he had found in an old enemy.

***


End file.
